


Where Credit is Due

by Rose_of_Pollux



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Early Days, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 11:50:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11600055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: Takes place during the second year of the partnership. In which Napoleon receives lots of accolades after he and Illya get their promotions.  But when Illya seems to have been overlooked by the propaganda department, Napoleon takes matters into his own hands.





	Where Credit is Due

Things had snowballed since Napoleon and Illya’s defeating the Baron of THRUSH; Illya’s permanent transfer to New York had been finalized at the end of November, and the both of them had filled out the paperwork for their promotions in December, just before leaving for a vacation that had been spent at Napoleon’s childhood home, and with his parents.

They had returned to work just after New Year’s and had found something else in each other—not just a partner for work, but a partner for life.  They had fallen in love and had started a relationship, which was only just starting to grow as word of their promotions had been finalized.  It was soon spread around the New York branch like wildfire—Napoleon Solo had been named the youngest Chief Enforcement Agent in the history of U.N.C.L.E., and Illya had been promoted to a position second only to him.

There were a few ill feelings—particularly from those who had been with Section II longer than Napoleon, but, for the most part, they were genuinely happy for the two of them, including Mark Slate, who had no hard feelings about the duo getting promoted despite his seniority.

Napoleon and Illya had both been content to accept their promotions and get to work, but the New York branch of Section VII, in charge of public relations and propaganda, had other plans, intending to make a big deal out of U.N.C.L.E.’s new favorite son (or, nephew, as the colloquial term was) and his unique status as youngest C.E.A.  Their response was to throw Napoleon a celebratory banquet and do a write-up about him and his life to spread to all the other branches across the States and across the world.

Their zeal was focused—and extremely short-sighted, as Illya had seemed to be left out of their plans completely.  They did invite him to the banquet (along with everyone else at the New York branch), but it was clear that Napoleon was their man of the hour.

Illya bore no ill-will against Napoleon, of course—he knew it wasn’t up to him.  And, really, he couldn’t fault the local branch for favoring Napoleon when Illya was still a relative newcomer.  Napoleon had been working to stop the Baron for a long time, and probably would have succeeded whether or not Illya had been sent over.  As far as Illya was concerned, he had only expedited the process rather than driven it.

And besides…  Illya had Napoleon’s love.  What else did he really need?

And so, Illya let Napoleon have his moment in the limelight without saying anything.  Section VII had rolled out the red carpet for Napoleon, hiring (security-screened) gourmet caterers to prepare the meal.  And as Illya saw Napoleon dressed up to the nines in his tuxedo as he arrived, surrounded by fellow agents clamoring for his attention, it became clear to Illya just why Napoleon’s father had decided to name him after royalty; Napoleon carried himself with a practically regal grace as he greeted everyone around him.

Illya had to consciously keep himself from getting slack-jawed as he watched his partner mingle with the crowd; he was getting hot under the collar fast.  Napoleon looked so dashing—so handsome.

As far as Illya was concerned, his partner deserved these accolades, and more; were it not necessity to keep as low a profile as possible, Napoleon’s defeat of the Baron should have been celebrated worldwide.

The propaganda team was asking Napoleon all sorts of questions as he took his position at the head of the table—how long it had taken to achieve this milestone, and how much effort he had put into achieving it.

Napoleon was silent, waiting as Illya took his seat beside him; he was still very much in awe of his partner.

Finally, Napoleon stood, taking the microphone that the propaganda team had given him.

“I’ll keep things brief and to the point, since I know that we’re all ready to dig in to the food--”

“Hear, hear,” Illya murmured, quietly, causing Napoleon to grin.

“But a lot of you have been asking me about my successes on this endeavor to stop the Baron,” Napoleon continued.  “And I wanted to talk about them in a way that everyone can know my secrets to success.  Because the information I have is valuable—and seems to have been forgotten by the propaganda team, who have, unfortunately, failed to acknowledge it even once tonight.”

He paused to glance at the propaganda team, who looked puzzled, trying to think of what exactly they had overlooked.

Illya, on the other hand, suddenly froze as the realization of what Napoleon was trying to do sunk in.

“The ‘secret’ to my success,” Napoleon continued, pulling Illya up from his seat and drawing an arm around him.  “Is my partner.  I wouldn’t have made the progress I had made over the last year without him—I fact, I probably wouldn’t even be here.  This isn’t just my promotion—it’s his, too.  And as C.E.A., there is no one else I’d rather have as my second-in-command.”

Illya could feel himself going red from his partner’s praise—not to mention the strong arm wrapped around him.  He found himself wishing that Napoleon would never let go of him—that the arm would draw closer.

“And so, to all you up-and-coming field agents out there hoping to achieve great things and make names for yourselves,” Napoleon continued.  “I offer you this bit of sage advice: don’t expect to pull it off on your own.  Believe me, you can get a whole lot more accomplished when you don’t have to keep looking over your shoulder—because you can relax knowing that your partner always has your back.”

After the moment of stunned silence passed, the whole room burst into applause—even the propaganda team; Napoleon and Illya both caught sight of Waverly applauding, too, nodding in approval.

“Alright—let’s eat!” Napoleon announced, and he and Illya sat back down, digging into their plates.

“Napoleon…” Illya said, quietly.  “Thank you.  You did not need to bring me into your limelight.”

“Yes, I did,” Napoleon replied, instantly.  “This is your victory, too, Illya; I wouldn’t have made it without you.  It’s how we’re going to get things done as C.E.A. and second-in-command—I can feel it.”  He smiled and lowered his voice.  “And after this dinner, I’ll see to it that you, ah, get the appreciation you deserve tonight.”

Illya responded by stifling the growing squeak of excitement by biting into a large piece of fish, hoping that no one would notice his ears glowing even redder.

It was clear that both he and his partner had nothing but optimism for what lay ahead—professionally and personally.


End file.
